


Downwards Ascent

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grinnaux de Dzemael-centric, Minor Grinnaux de Dzemael/Paulecrain de Fanouilley, Tempered Heavens' Ward (Final Fantasy XIV), Tempering (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24287854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: Glimpses into the life of Grinnaux de Dzemael, and what became of him in the Heavens' Ward.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8
Collections: Villain of My Own Story Exchange 2020





	Downwards Ascent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oneironym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneironym/gifts).



Grinnaux, as he was wont to, strode into his uncle's study without knocking. The servant stationed outside in case Count de Dzemael required anything had tried to stop him, but what chance did a scrawny little runt of an Elezen who hadn't cut it out as a knight have to bar his path? Grinnaux simply pushed him aside and thrown the door open.

His uncle sat at his desk, which was covered in papers as always. Reports of altercations with the Dravanian horde, reports of harvests, reports of what the Fortemps were up to these days, reports of the latest fart the archbishop had released; boring stuff, in short. What a blessing that he wasn't in line to become the next Count. 

Then again, it wasn't as if that was a possibility now that he'd been called to higher offices anyroad. 

“What is it now, nephew?“ Count de Dzemael asked without looking up from his papers. “Do you need moremoney to pay off the family of some unfortunate sod who looked at you the wrong way while you were out drinking?“ 

Grinnaux spread his arms wide. “Should you be speaking to a knight of the Heavens' Ward like this?“ 

_That_ made his uncle look at him, though not with the respect such an announcement warranted. Instead, he shot him a withering glare and said, “What in blazes are you talking about? Are you drunk? Shame on you. It's the middle of the day. I can't well stop you from being deep in your cups at night, but at least have the decency to stay sober until then!“ 

“You accuse me of lying? Shame on _you_ for slandering a holy servant of the Fury!“ Grinnaux laughed. This was _fun._ How the tables had turned, from being seen as hired muscle for dirty work to being a knight of the ward! Unasked, he sat down on the chair normally reserved for visitors and guests who had urgent business with the count. 

“Please,“ the count said, voice surly. “You want me to believe this drivel? Who in their right mind would invite _you_ to the ward? All of Ishgard knows of your drunken exploit. It would be a disgrace to such a holy office that no-one in their right mind would countenance.“

“You may want to bring that up with Ser Zephirin. He was the one who brought me the offer. I daresay he might take offense to your insinuation, hm?“ 

“He might take offense to you pretending to be a knight of the ward...“ His uncle stopped. “Bah. Not even you would be so stupid as to involve Ser Zephirin if you didn't think he'd back you up, and you're at least not obviously drunk. If I find out that you truly _are_ that stupid, however, mark my words, boy: There will be consequences. And wipe that grin off your face. It's unbecoming.“

“Make your inquiries, uncle,“ Grinnaux said. “Ask around as much as you like. My inauguration takes place a week from now. I'll be seeing you there.“ 

Oh, the count's face at that pronouncement. 'Twas as if he had bitten into a lemon and swallowed it whole. Seeing that had made coming here first oh so worth it. 

_Eat your disdain, uncle. Look how far I've come._. 

His inaugural ceremony came fast. Count de Dzemael stood in the front row of the spectators invited into St. Reymanaud's Cathedral, face carefully schooled into a vague expression of pride that masked the underlying, real emotions. To watch him hold on all the bile he surely wanted to spew—priceless. 

Grinnaux, too, concealed his true mood as he knelt in front of the archbishop at the altar. A victorious smirk, too, would be _unbecoming_ , and contrary to popular opinion, he was, in fact, capable of keeping a straight face for a time. The vow of chastity and the oath to serve the Fury and Her faithful up until the day he finally joined Her in Her halls left his lips easily. The former was, admittedly, a bit of a bummer; he was no casanova, but every once in a while he enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh. The Church hardly needed to know about his every action, though, and what they didn't know… 

The Fury surely wouldn't begrudge him a little fun. 

“Henceforth,“ Thordan announced to those gathered in the cathedral, “Ser Grinnaux renounces all ties to his mundane family and takes his place among the brothers of the Heavens' Ward. May the Fury guide his arm, that he may shield our valiant nation against the Dravanian horde. Please, join me all in a heartfelt prayer to Her now...“ 

So they did, although it was with an air of bewilderment nobody could possibly miss. Many of the patrons kept glancing in Grinnaux' general direction. They tried to be subtle about it, to be sure, but Grinnaux caught their eyes more than once. He basked in their stares, in the hushed whisper he could just barely make out over the ambient hum of a hundred people speaking a prayer in unison.

It was proof of how far he had made it. 

The elation he had felt at the ceremony didn't last long.

Precisely speaking, it vanished as soon as Ser Zephirin called a meeting to introduce Grinnaux to his brothers and discuss the agenda of the day. Fresh out of having his personal ward armor fitted to his broad shoulders, Grinnaux took his seat and propped his feet up on the round table. 

“Kindly refrain from such gestures of disrespect,“ the ward knight sitting opposite of him snarled. Haumeric de Peulagnon, his name was. Or so Grinnaux thought. Frankly, he'd never paid too much attention to the Heavens' Ward, and he had no eye for faces. 

“Relax,“ Grinnaux drawled. “Nobody's watching.“ 

“ _I'm_ watching, and—“

“His Eminence will be joining us shortly.“ The door fell shut behind Ser Zephirin as he stepped up to his own chair, next to the archbishop's empty one. “I suggest you do not let him see this conduct. It would be unwise.“ He displayed none of the anger Haumeric had; at most, he gave off some mild disapproval. Was he hiding his annoyance or did he not care?

Grinnaux couldn't tell, but still, he pulled his feet back. The archbishop's presence was hard to argue with. Though he saw no reason to jump at his new brothers' whims, the archbishop himself was a different story. For one, His Eminence had the authority to demote him again, should he stray too far from what was expected of him. 

Thus, he wouldn't let him see any such things. 

Haumeric continued to glare at him, but said naught further as Zephirin unfolded a missive or another and began speaking of duties and tasks to be divvied up among the ward. Grinnaux did listen. After all, some of them might end up being assigned to him. 

It was dreadfully boring, though.

Tensions between Grinnaux and his brothers only deepened after that. It was apparent in a myriad tiny ways, as nobody wished to make open complaints for as long as he held Ser Zephirin's and the Archbishop's approval. Ser Haumeric in particular often shot him dirty glares or even pulled him aside to lecture him on proper conduct, but Grinnaux simply laughed it off. Yes, of course being a knight of the Heavens' Ward was a holy position to fill, the Fury Herself had decreed it so, but what was the point if one couldn't have a little fun in life? Why would She bestow such honour upon a man only to condemn him to suffer so?

Making that argument during one of Haumeric's lectures had been fun. His brother-in-arms had turned beet-red and begun spouting scripture at him. 

His other brothers were amusing for different reasons. 

“...so when I told 'brother Ignasse' that I was going to use the money to help fund repairs for rural churches damaged by Dalamud's fall, he just believed it!“ Grinnaux laughed and downed the rest of his beer. His new position necessitated meeting in a more private setting than the public taverns, but Count de Dzemael had ever been willing to spare a room for him if it removed him from the public while he was down in his cups. 

“So what _will_ you do with your newly embezzled funds?“ Paulecrain asked as he refilled both of their cups. “Whores?“

“As if I need those when I have _you_. No, it'll be booze. And food. Bribery, if I need it.“ Speaking of food: there were chicken drum sticks to gorge upon. Grinnaux took one from the plate and bit into it, uncaring of the juices that dribbled down his chin and onto his clothing. “And here's something other than Ignasse's stupidity that will come in handy: Ser Zephirin unexpectedly asked me for recommendations on who else to fill the vacancies with. I put down your name. He might contact you about it.“

“Really? Mine? You think I'll fit among our most holy brothers?“

“No better or worse than I do!“ 

They laughed and continued drinking.

The next day, Grinnaux awoke with a pounding head in an unfamiliar, sparse cell. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. His mouth tasted like a chocobo had shat into it. Where the hells was he? Clearly he'd had a few too many to drink, as he couldn't remember how he got to this cell, or even when he had left the Dzemael manor.

Someone snored next to him. He turned his head. There Paulecrain lay, mouth wide open, a trickle of drool dripping from his lips. He'd sing a different tune as soon as he awoke. Paulecrain with hangover was downright insufferable. 

For the time being, Grinnaux let him be and stood up on wobbly legs to explore the cell. Someone must have picked them off the streets and put them here to sleep it off, but this didn't look like the Dzemael estate, where his uncle would have had them brought. So who else had it been, then? 

He pushed on the cell door, and found it locked. _That_ , he didn't like. Granted, he had a tendency to wander off when drunk and perhaps their captor had simply wanted to prevent that, but whoever had locked them in had also taken their weapon and armor (if they had even carried them during whatever escapade they had been on). And those bars looked far too sturdy to get past just with brute force. 

Concerning.

He kicked at the cell door, causing a clang to echo through the corridor outside. “Hey! Where the hells am I?“ 

“Shut up, man, some of us are trying to sleep,“ Paulecrain slurred. “Urgh. I think I'm going to be sick...“

“Save it for later.“ Grinnaux rattled the bars again. “Hey! I demand an answer!“ 

A moment later, after assessing the situation, Paulecrain joined him at the door. “Do you have any idea what we were up to last night? I don't remember a thing after we started drinking.“

“Not in the slightest.“ Fury take whoever had tossed them in here and then didn't even have the courtesy to answer to him. Well, he had no issue whatsoever with yelling at them until they told him where he was and let him out of this hole. It exacerbated his headache, but he'd gone into battle with a hangover before. This was nothing.

He was just about to shout again when the sound of footsteps echoed through the dungeon. A moment later, Zephirin came into view through the cell bars. 

“You've got some nerve locking your own brother up in here,“ Grinnaux said. Internally, however, he relaxed. Some of his brothers had probably dragged him back here during his drunk escapades so he could sleep it off. Why they had chucked him, and Paulecrain too, into a dungeon, out of all places, he didn't quite know, but since they were both sober now, they'd be set free without an issue.

“Please be quiet,“ Zephirin said. “His Eminence will be joining us shortly.“ By the Fury, he really did show no emotions whatsoever. Grinnaux had always heard about him being hardworking and devout, in other words _boring_ , but would it kill him to unfreeze his face a little? 

“What's he want from us?“ 

“He is displeased with your conduct of last night,“ Zephirin answered. Whether he shared that sentiment or not was unclear. His voice was perfectly even, his face a perfect mask. “If not for Ser Adelphel and Ser Janlenoux' intervention, your unnecessary provocation of the temple knights would have become a blight upon the Ward's reputation. Your induction into the Ward was under the assumption that you would reign in your base instincts. The archbishop wishes to admonish you for failing to do so.“ 

Paulecrain leaned forward. “What about me then, huh? I'm not one of your 'brothers' yet. I can do whatever the hells I want, provided it doesn't get me in trouble with Count de Dzemael.“ 

“You, too, shall hear what His Emienence has to say. He will not be long now.“

Though Grinnaux tried to weasel more information out of him, his brother remained silent, seemingly staring at nothing as whatever he thought about on a daily basis went through his head. Bah. Zephirin wasn't as bad as some of his other brothers, but the fact that nothing could ever provoke him was beyond annoying. 

“So when is he coming?“ Paulecrain asked. “You said—“

“Reign in your impatience,“ the archbishop said. Grinnaux hadn't heard him coming. How did someone so old and so dolled up in heavy clothing move so silently? He stepped into view but a moment later and regarded Grinnaux with indecipherable eyes. “I must confess, I am… disappointed. With you, for your lack of constraint, and with Ser Zephirin here for his lack of judgement. He seemed inclined to believe you would control yourself.“

“My deepest apologies,“ Zephirin murmured and bowed before the archbishop. 

“I'm sorry,“ Grinnaux said. Without meaning to, of course, but buttering up one's superiors was sometimes a necessity. “I never meant for the situation to escalate so much.“

Thordan inclined his head. “That may well be true. Nonetheless, I cannot look aside as your little 'accidents' ruin the reputation of the Ward and call my judgement into question. Something needs to be done.“

Done? Was he going to kick him out of the ward? Just for a little bit of drunken mayhem? “Wait just a—“ he started.

“The time for waiting has passed. You have proven yourself to be a liability. A liability which I will now eradicate.“ Thordan smiled as he said it. “And you have brought me the next candidate for the Ward as well. How deeply convenient to kill two birds with one stone.“

“ _Eradicate?_ Hold on, what—“

“You can't just—“ 

A flash of light, and Thordan began to grow to monstrous proportions. At the same time his frail frame filled in, he seemingly began growing a full suit of armor, plates emerging out of nowhere and enveloping his body. Before long, a knight whose head brushed against the ceiling stood before the cell.

“You will be made to obey now, as Ser Zephirin here already has been. Receive your blessing.“ It was Thordan's voice, and yet it was not. An inhuman reverberation carried through the dungeon with every word. 

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—“ Paulecrain backed off towards the wall. 

Grinnaux threw himself against the iron bars and reached out to Zephirin. “Get us the hells out of here, you can't just stand by as that— _thing_ does whatever the hell he wants to!“

Zephirin never answered. 

Not when the blinding blaze surrounded Grinnaux. Not when he clawed at his head as something within his mind _shifted_. Not even when his hands dropped to his sides at last and he took his orders from the archbishops.

It was only after the archbishop had ordered him to unlock the cell and Grinnaux and Paulecrain had exited that Zephirin spoke up again. “I will be seeing you at the meeting tomorrow. Ser Paulecrain, your appointment as a knight of the Ward will also be announced tomorrow.“ 

Paulecrain grinned. “I can't wait.“ 

It was an easy to understand sentiment. After all, Paulecrain's appointment would mark the beginning of his service to His Eminence.

And what else could be more important?


End file.
